


tequila sunrise

by CallicoKitten



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 05:23:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12226626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: It never meant anything, him and Whiskey, but it was something.-or, Tequila decides to move to Scotland





	tequila sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted to write about whiskey and tequila banging but it didn't pan out like that

The first time they fuck, it’s on a mission.

They’re playing a couple for some horny old lady, the kid of old lady who’s being quietly funding terrorist operations and amassing enough nuclear material to iridate most of the West Coast. Whiskey’s playing the suave older guy, rich and smooth and just the right side of charming, Tequila’s the one who’s still not all that comfortable in his own skin.

(“No change there then,” Ginger says, but her smile is kind.)

They’re staying overnight in her big fancy mansion in Georgia. Waiting on a bug they dropped earlier to pay off.

 _Whole rooms bugged,_ Whiskey drums out in Morse code. He’s sat on the bed, taps it out on the bedside table while Tequila checks the bathroom.

 _Cameras too,_ Tequila signs back, keeps his hands carefully out of sight as he walks back into the main room. _Loads in the shower._

Whiskey smirks, leans up to grip Tequila by the waist, sudden enough to make Tequila jump. “Well then,” Whiskey says, voice low in Tequila’s ear. “Reckon we best put on a show, don’t you?”

Tequila swallows. This ain’t his first rodeo and he’s wanted to break Whiskey’s pretty face since Statesman pulled him out of that circus he’d ended up at. This’ll do.

 _Play nice boys,_ Ginger says over the comms.

Whiskey laughs. “You listening in, Ginger? Dirty girl.”

Tequila grabs his jaw, yanks it up, bites at Whiskey’s lips until he tastes copper. Whiskey lets him, smirks when they pull apart. “So _that’s_ how you wanna play, huh?”

He moves quickly, too fast for Tequila to react, twists them round and pins Tequila to the bed. “Well alrighty then.”

\---

When they take him off the ice, Ginger’s wearing that _you-poor-puppy_ look that makes Tequila’s skin crawl. “I miss something big?” he slurs.

Ginger makes a face that’s more like a wince, “Kinda.”

She tells him about Poppy, about the Golden Circle. She’s gentle when she tells him about Whiskey, puts a hand on his shoulder. It never meant anything, him and Whiskey, but it was something.

Ginger sets down her clipboard, sits beside him on the medbay bed, curls a hand through his hair. “You okay?” she asks, quietly.

(She uses that tone with him a lot, says things like: _you’re a mess_ and _you have to stop this_ and _if not for yourself, for us_ when Tequila’s stumbled back to the base, come down so bad he feels like his eyes are being forced out of his skull. He mostly sticks to weed but sometimes, _sometimes -_

Look, Tequila’s a good agent. He keeps himself on the straight and narrow during missions and most of the time in between but sometimes he just doesn’t feel like being himself anymore.)

“I’m hungry,” Tequila says.

Ginger sighs.

\---

Ginger makes him stay in the medbay, brings him two double cheese burgers and fries. Tequila’s pretty sure it has less to do with his physical condition and more to do with whatever she’s decided his mental state is.

Tequila sits on his bed and sulks, looks up at the door opens and the kid from Kingsman leans in. “That burger going spare?” he asks.

It isn’t but something tells him the kids not gonna listen either way. “Sure.”

“Get _in_ ,” he says, stepping and snatching up the burger. He takes a bite and sighs, “Oh my god, I’ve never been this hungry in my _life._ ”

Tequila snorts.

The butterfly guy leans into the room next, audibly tuts when he sees the kid. “How you’re eating meat so soon after what happened in that diner I’ll never know, Eggsy.” He looks at Tequila like he’s an afterthought. “Sorry about your agent. Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

Tequila inclines his head, “How’s yours?”

Harry winces. “He’ll lose his legs but he’s alive.”

“Lucky bastard,” Eggsy says through a mouthful of Tequila’s fries. “Always knew Merlin was unkillable. _Always._ ”

Harry shakes his head, gives Eggsy a soft, fond look.

\---

“Champ wants to see you,” Ginger says the next morning, face full of sympathy. “I can tell him you’re not up to it if you want.”

Tequila sighs at her, slides off the bed and wanders up to Champ’s office. Along the way a couple of agents snigger at him. It’s not because of Whiskey - they don’t know, they can’t know. It’s the dancing probably. Ginger filled him in.

Tequila ignores them.

“Good to see you up and about, boy,” Champ beams. “It was touch and go for a while there.”

Tequila steps into the room and drops himself into one of the chairs. “Yeah, I heard you guys coulda used me back there.”

Champ’s smile is unconvincing. He turns away briefly to pour himself a drink, doesn’t offer Tequila one. Champ’s hand hovers briefly over the decanter of Jack Daniels he pretends he doesn’t have before he settles on cognac.  Tequila fidgets under the table. They haven’t had this conversation before then again, Tequila’s never ended up on ice with blue gunk weaving its way through his skin.

When Champ turns back he sighs sadly, shakes his head like a disappointed father. “Now, look Tequila. Now, you know that I’m perfectly happy for you agents to play fast and loose when you’re not on duty, right? I mean, what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t encourage my employees to indulge in our wares? But there is a line, Tequila. A line between dangerous and fun and don’t you dare make a crack at that. You worried me, boy and I’m not the only one.”

\---

Champ moves up his psych eval, tells him he’s grounded until further notice. He snaps at Ginger when he gets back down to the medbay even though it’s not her fault, not even close. She’s been covering for him all this time, after all.

She leaves him to sulk, heads off up to the weapons range or R and D or something. Tequila wanders about, figures he’ll check in with the guys from Kingsman.

The guy they pulled out of the jungle, the one who stepped on a landmine is down the hall from Tequila, he’s not even sure the guy’s awake yet. The room’s not empty. Harry’s in there, plastic chair pulled up close to the bed, head bent like he’s praying. He’s got one of the Scottish guy’s hands clasped between his, forehead pressed against them.

Tequila hovers for a moment. He should probably back out, pretend he didn’t see anything but something that’s been fraying inside him for a long-time snaps and he steps in to the room, makes sure his shoes smack against the floor. Harry jumps, let’s go of the guy’s hand.

“Tequila,” he says, blinking hard against the dampness in his eyes.

Tequila stays by the wall, assessing the situation. “Y’all got rules against that sort of thing too?”

Harry cycles through a bunch of emotions in a handful of seconds. He’s confused at first, then he seems to figure it out some and considers, then he huffs, somewhat resigned and relaxes. “We do. Well, that is to say, we _did_ , I suppose. There’s no Arthur anymore, after all. No agency to speak of really outside of Eggsy, Merlin and I.”

“You seem to be doing alright,” Tequila points out.

Harry smiles faintly. “Yes, I suppose so.” He looks back to the guy on the bed, takes his hand again. “You know, we’ve been together for over thirty years? I hadn’t ever really thought about it before. It was just part of life and then he – ” he breaks off, voice threatening to crack.

Tequila pretends not to pick up on it.

“Well. It’s what they all say isn’t it?” Harry goes on after a moment. “You never know what you’ve got until you’ve lost it.”

Something in Tequila’s chest tightens. He breathes through it. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Harry turns to look at him then, must have figured it out because he’s expression is caught between sternness and sympathy. Fuckin’ spies. “I would say I’m sorry but he did try and kill me,” he says and Tequila huffs, tips his head back against the wall.

“S’alright,” he says, eyes on the ceiling. “He tried to kill me a fair few times too.”

\---

He’s allowed out of the medbay the next day, takes his time sulking all the way up to his room. He’s caught in this memory, a few months back when Whiskey was on a layover from New York and they got drunk and fucked on Tequila’s floor. It’s fucking stupid to be hung up on it. Whiskey was an asshole. A traitor asshole.

He’s only been in there a few minutes when there’s a knock at the door. Ginger’s hovering outside, a box under her arm. “I – uh – I was cleaning this stuff and I thought I’d ask if you wanted anything before I threw it out.”

She holds it out to him.

It’s Whiskey’s stuff, piled neatly into a single cardboard box. There’s more in New York, probably. Whiskey was always boasting about this big fuck off apartment. Tequila never cared to see it though.

Tequila stares at it.

A couple of whips, a helmet, neatly folded shirts, a photo of a pretty girl. Tequila doesn’t know that girl, doesn’t know her name or her story, that’s the deal with Statesman. When you join, you leave your old life behind. For people like him and Ginger, that was easy. He always figured it was easy for Whiskey too.

 “Nah. I’m good.”

Ginger makes a face. “It’s okay to be sad, you know,” she says, like he’s fucking five years old.

“He was a traitor, Ginger.”

She tilts her head. “That doesn’t mean you don’t get to be sad. I’m sad.”

Tequila snorts, “You said he was a sexist asshole.”

“More than one thing can be true.” She sets the box down to rub his back. “Things’ll get better.”

Tequila hums noncommittally.

“Champ wants to see us later. The Kingsman boys are headed out soon, he wants to tell them about Scotland.”

“Their man all sorted?”

Ginger winces. “He’s getting there.” She’s quiet for a moment, walks into his room and sits down on his bed. “Do you think I’d make a good field agent?”

“I wouldn’t have voted for you all those times if I didn’t,” Tequila says simply.

Ginger smiles. She knows that, of course she knows that, but sometimes she lets assholes like Whiskey get to her. Tequila does too. He huffs, sits down beside her and slings an arm around her shoulders.

\---

“I’m not gonna call you Whiskey, you know,” he tells her afterwards.

Ginger giggles, her cheeks pink. Eggsy’s bought her a celebratory drink, champagne or something. “Things might get confusing with the new Ginger then.”

Tequila waves a hand, “Ah. It’s not like Champ’s gonna let me out into the field again. I’ll just have to stand around lookin’ pretty.”

“Oh, baby, no,” she says, reaches up and cups his cheek. “He’s just worried about you. We all are.”

Tequila shrugs her off. “Let’s not talk about that now. You’re an agent! You can shoot people and stuff!”

Ginger mock cheers. Eggsy laughs and raises his glass to her glee. Tequila smiles.

Later, he’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with Eggsy at the bar, nursing a glass of good, strong bourbon. “Come on, chin up,” Eggsy nudges him. “She’ll still be around. You might even get paired up together in the field.”

Tequila almost laughs. Of _course_ that’s what he thinks. “It’s not like that,” Tequila says. “She’s – ” he falls quiet, trying to figure out what Ginger actually is to him.

Eggsy nods, “Yeah. I had someone like that once. Roxy. Lancelot.” He shakes his head, drains his glass. “Then she got blown up.”

Tequila looks at him. “That sucks,” he says, patting the kid on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Eggsy says. “Yeah. So, I guess we’re shorthanded. You know anyone looking for a job?”

Tequila sets his glass down slowly. “They haven’t fired me yet, kid,” he says coldly.

Eggsy makes a good show of pretending that wasn’t what he meant.

\---

“It might do you good, you know,” Ginger says later, as they sit together on the roof of the distillery. The night air is warm, Tequila lies on his back, staring up at the sky.

“You know,” Ginger goes on. “Going abroad, getting a change of scenery.”

“Awh, you that desperate to get rid of me?”

She laughs, it’s all frayed at the edges and shaky. “You know it.” She reaches out and takes his hand.

“I’m serious though. It doesn’t have to be forever, just to get your head in order. Besides, they could use your help.”

Tequila brushes a thumb across her knuckles. “Yeah, maybe.”

\---

The day he leaves she hugs him tight. Champ does to, touches the side of his face gently and says, “You come right back the second you’re feeling up to it, son, you hear?”

Tequila swallows and nods.

Behind him, Harry clears his throat.

“Leave off,” Eggsy says.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” he says to Ginger.

Ginger laughs.


End file.
